


Like Paragraphs Without Punctuation

by deesaster



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Brain Surgery, Fix-It, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018), Worried Hermann Gottlieb, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 09:24:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14541651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deesaster/pseuds/deesaster
Summary: Newt told Hermann he wasn’t strong enough.It’s all right, because Hermann wasn’t strong enough either. He wasn’t strong enough to tell Newt all the things that should have been said a long time ago.





	Like Paragraphs Without Punctuation

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: this fic is not beta-read and the author is not a native speaker!

Newt told Hermann he wasn’t strong enough.

It’s all right, because Hermann wasn’t strong enough either. He wasn’t strong enough to tell Newt all the things that should have been said a long time ago.

Maybe things would have played out differently, and he wouldn’t be standing outside a heavily-guarded prison cell, forcing himself to watch how the Precursor Emissary screams and spasms in his restraints.

Newt is going into surgery tomorrow. Hermann feels as though the surgery would be performed on him instead.

He wonders if Alice is going to show up. What sort of a _girlfriend_ is she, anyway? She hasn’t been down here to see Newt yet. Although Hermann’s not sure that she’s been notified. Oddly enough, _Hermann_ was still the one listed as Newt’s emergency contact. Hermann doesn’t know how he feels about it.

…Should he? He probably should. Track her down, that is. Newt should be surrounded by loved ones when he awakens. His father had been called, and his uncle too, but neither of them could fly in to be here for Newt in time. The times they live in makes it difficult for civilians to obtain quick or cheap flights. It saddens Hermann.

His best option is checking out Newt’s apartment first. He could also grab some clothes for Newt, or other personal effects that would make Newt’s stay in the hospital more comfortable. It would make perfect sense, he tells himself.

Finding Newt’s address proves to be a challenge, since Newt had no ID on him when he was taken in, and there was nobody around that Hermann could ask. He ends up calling Shao Industries and waits for more than an hour for a petty secretary to find Newt’s registered address in the personnel files, after arguing with her about his security clearance and credentials.

But he doesn’t have trouble finding the place and entering. There is be a spare key on the top of the door’s frame, Hermann knows Newt well enough. Newt’s apartment is everything Hermann imagined it would be. Shelves full of pop culture paraphernalia, colorful framed posters, kitsch furniture.

“Miss Alice?” he tries, half-expecting a pretty young thing to pop at him from behind a corner and tell him sweetly, “It’s Mrs. Geiszler, how may I help you?”

No such thing happens. The apartment lacks the touch of a woman, anyhow. If Hermann hadn’t known about this Alice’s existence, he could as well have presumed that this is a man’s apartment turned into a glorified bachelor’s den. So maybe they don’t live together, and Hermann has simply misunderstood. Maybe Alice is a cat. Or a dog. Newt has always been fond of dogs. He pretends he doesn’t really care about this particular detail, as he now looks around for signs of both pets and romantic partners.

His nose scrunches up when he notices the thick layer of dust set on the furniture, but he moves forward within the apartment, making a stop in Newt’s bathroom, picking up his toothpaste and toothbrush (the sole toothbrush in the holder, Hermann doesn’t fail to notice), along with a towel, and carefully placing them into a small duffel bag he finds in a drawer.

Then he goes back to the living room to collect some slippers he’d seen carelessly discarded by an ottoman in front of the gigantic curved TV. He proceeds to check Newt’s kitchen for any food that might have gone bad, figuring he could save Newt some trouble when he returns home. He ends up adding a box of those granola bars that Newt is fond of into the duffel bag. There’s a cupboard dedicated to them entirely, and they’re pretty much the only food in the kitchen, sans the spoiled milk in the otherwise empty fridge.

There is a short flight of stairs leading up to what Hermann assumes is the bedroom. With the aid of his cane, he climbs them slowly and carefully, hindered by his bad leg. If he’s been feeling remorseful so far at his breach of privacy caused by his intrusion in Newt’s apartment, it is nothing compared to the shame he feels now, walking uninvited in the man’s bedroom. 

His eyes first rest on the bed, mostly because they’re distracted by the bright, tacky sheets. But a muffled ‘thump’ comes from his right, alertness substituting his shame. He grips his cane tightly, ready to use it in his defense, if need be. When he twists on his heels, he thinks he is prepared.

However, he is not. The shock takes a fraction of a second to settle in, allowing him to process what he sees. He drops the duffel bag to the ground, its contents clattering on the floor.

Oh. This explains a lot, he realizes then, watching how the brain’s tentacle-like parts swirl almost innocently in the yellowish liquid that keeps it alive. Another couple of seconds pass before he notices the Pons unit tucked behind the tank, and the sight of it is a considerable hit to Hermann’s composure.

He feels as though he should have figured this out sooner.

 

~*~

 

Hermann would be the only one there when Newt comes back from surgery. Of course, by the time he actually awakens, his uncle and father might arrive in Hong Kong, as well.

But for the time being, Hermann is alone, tensely occupying a chair in front of the surgery room, waiting for the doors to open.

There would be no way to tell if the intervention had succeeded, not until Newt wakes up. And it might be days before he does. And weeks before he makes a complete recovery. _If_ he makes a complete recovery, Hermann thinks, a cold shiver making him twitch. Simply surviving the reversal of the physical alterations suffered by Newt’s brain under the influence of the Anteverse hivemind is already challenging enough.

Hermann is not a man of faith. But he isn’t surprised when he realizes that the amalgam of thoughts swirling in his mind is something akin to a desperate prayer.

Newt is strong enough, he tells himself. _I might not be, but he is_.

 

~*~

 

The intervention was a success, the doctors say. But Newt is pale, with a crisp white bandage wrapped around his head, as he lies still in the hospital bed, and Hermann isn’t completely assured by their words.

He doesn’t really leave Newt’s room for the entire week that follows, and the wait for him to wake up is not easy to bear. The chair by the bedside is uncomfortable, but Hermann’s personal comfort is by no means a priority. He chooses to focus on the loud sound of Newt’s heartbeat monitor, relieved to hear a steady, strong rhythm.

When there are no nurses or doctors around, and he knows the rest of the ward is empty, he takes Newt’s hand into his own, squeezing gently in a silent plea for the other man to wake up. He tries to talk to Newt, about his work, about the weather, about anything, but he feels too self-conscious about it. His voice is faint and weak, his words are poorly-chosen. He sticks to just holding Newt’s hand from time to time, blushing as he realizes he’s not really entitled to do so.

Newt wakes up eight days after his surgery. Hermann, of course, is there when it happens.

It’s the middle of the night and Hermann is dozing off in the uncomfortable chair, not ready to return to his quarters for the night. He’s catching up on his reading, without much interest, as the material isn’t interesting in the slightest. His fingers had recently released their hold on Newt’s own, after Hermann had shifted in the seat, and now they’re almost imperceptibly touching Newt’s palm.

He huffs in annoyance at the tablet’s screen, scrolling impatiently through pages and pages of poorly-researched articles.

First, he registers the soft graze of skin against his fingers, and the slow shift of weight on the bed. Then, the sound of Newt’s hoarse voice almost has him dropping the tablet from his shaking hands.

“Dude, I so, so hope you didn’t have _that_ face plastered on when you used to read my work back when we were lab mates.”

Hermann’s breath hitches, his body jerking in a small hiccup. His fingers instinctively latch onto Newt’s hand, and he recovers quickly from the surprise.

“Your work has always presented a modicum of respectable quality, Newton,” he finds the strength to say, hoping he’s talking to Newt himself and not the Emissary. He doesn’t know what else to say.

Newt squeezes his fingers softly. “Hermann, don’t you know that flattery gets you nowhere?” he replies, clicking his tongue and smiling weakly. He then closes his eyes, as though it was a tremendous effort for him to speak.

“How are you feeling?” Hermann finds the courage to ask. He briefly considers fetching a doctor, but then Newt doesn’t seem to be in pain or distress. Besides, the doctors would swarm Newt and lock Hermann out as they carry out tests, and honestly, all Hermann wants is a bit more time with what seems to be hi—the old Newt.

“Physically? Like Slattern danced the Kalinka all over my body. But at least there’s no one riding shotgun, from what I can tell,” Newt says, lifting his other hand and tapping his index finger against his temple. He finds the gauze wrapped around his head, and his face morphs into an expression of enlightenment. Looking around, as if he’s only just now realizing he’s in a hospital room, he gapes a little. “Oh, I suppose that explains it,” he whispers. “How long was I out?”

“Eight days,” Hermann replies, rather quietly.

Newt says nothing for a while, then asks for water. After Hermann helps him drink, Newt looks at him with big, fearful eyes.

“What happened? The last thing I remember is you, in the Shao lab.”

Newt’s eyes travel to Hermann’s neck, where Hermann knows he won’t find the signs he looks for. They’d faded a while ago. Hermann covers his neck nonetheless, his palm rubbing self-consciously at the spot.

“ _Gott_ , you’ve no idea how sorry I am, Herm, I swear I—”

Newt’s hand finds his again in a strong grip that Hermann returns, fingers digging into the back of hands.

“It is all right, I know you were not yourself,” Hermann interrupts him, thumb brushing against Newt’s fingers. He’s unwilling to listen to the rest of the apology, an apology that isn’t even needed. It wasn’t Newt’s fault, he knows it well. “What matters now is that you are recovering and in full control again.”

Newt nods, almost absent-mindedly, as though he is thinking about something else. Then, his face falters once more.

“You figured it out, right? What they wanted, their plans? You were the only one who could, Herm, please tell me you stopped it in time…” he asks frantically.

Hermann sneaks his other hand in their clasp, now holding Newt’s hand tightly between his own. It doesn’t do much to comfort the distressed biologist.

“I did, of course I did,” Hermann says.

Newt appears to relax briefly, but when Hermann adds nothing else, he senses that something is wrong.

“But I’d already activated the protocol. Breaches must have opened…” he realizes, trailing off.

Hermann says nothing.

“What’s the toll, Hermann?” Newt asks, withdrawing his hand from Hermann’s hold, and bringing it to rest on his stomach, curled in a fist that trembles and whitens his knuckles.

“We can talk about this in the morning, you need to rest,” Hermann says, in a cheap attempt to avoid the conversation.

“ _How many_?”

Hermann knows that Newt could as well turn on the TV and find out the number himself from the news that still rolls footage and information on repeat. So, he tells him.

Newt swears, exhaling loudly. His eyes are brimming as he shakes his head in denial. He looks at Hermann, searching for something, _anything_ , in the other man, be it words or gestures. By the time Hermann gets up from the chair and sits on the edge of Newt’s bed, the tears had already started to flow. Hermann’s arm automatically goes around Newt’s shoulders, and Newt muffles the first sob in Hermann’s cardigan.

The second one is accompanied by unintelligible apologies and by penitent whimpers, and if Hermann hadn’t been a hundred percent sure that Newt is fully in control before, he is now quite certain of the fact.

The third one breaks Hermann’s heart, and he shuffles closer, allowing Newt to bury himself deeper into Hermann’s side. His bad leg screams in protest because of the somewhat awkward position, but he ignores it in favor of comforting Newt in whichever way he can.

Newt falls asleep still clinging to Hermann’s side, tears drying on his face. Before he does, he mutters another apology, this time about ruining Hermann’s cardigan with his snot. The mathematician laughs it off, then encourages him to rest.

They’d talk more in the morning. It is time for Hermann to be strong, too.

 

~*~

 

Newt feels better in the morning, but Hermann doesn’t get to spend time with him until later in the day. The tests and consultations that declare Newt Precursor-free, as well as a visit from Jake Pentecost, take longer than Hermann expected.

Hermann’s visit, after all the doctors and PPDC officials wander off, brings a smile to a bedridden Newt’s face. He is no longer bandaged, an almost-healed surgical wound concealed by his growing hair.

“Hey, dude. Something tells me I gotta thank you for this. You’re a life saver, have I ever told you that? Thanks for everything,” Newt says, pointing towards the duffel bag that Hermann had collected from the apartment. He’s wearing the pajamas that Hermann had packed for him, after the shock from the brain’s discovery wore off.

Hermann nods, acknowledging his gratitude. “You are welcome, Newton.”

“So, uh, I suppose that you saw what was in there, huh?” Newt asks sheepishly.

“If you are referring to my discovery that your so-called Alice is not, in fact, a romantic partner, or perhaps a pet, then yes,” Hermann deadpans, taking his usual seat by the bed.

Newt winces. “Did you destroy it?”

The muscles in Hermann’s jaw tighten. “No, the PPDC have logged it in as evidence and it is currently in storage. I can arrange for it to be done away with, if you wish.”

“Yeah, please do that,” Newt says, nodding enthusiastically.

Hermann’s expression softens. “Very well.” He takes note of Newt’s hand, placed within grasp on the edge of the bed, palm up in what Hermann tries not to interpret as an invitation. He takes a deep breath. “Newton. I must convey my apologies to you.”

The frown of confusion on Newt’s face is almost endearing. “What on Earth could you be possibly sorry for?”

“I should have realized your affliction much sooner. I have considered our connection to be one of the lengthiest and closest out of the few I maintain. I would dare to admit that we are friends, but neither of us has previously used this term to define—”

“We _are_ friends, Hermann,” Newt interrupts him, confusion still obvious on his face. The confirmation eases Hermann’s nerves a bit. “And Christ Almighty,” Newt adds, “you have nothing to apologize for, you couldn’t have seen this coming. No one could.”

Hermann sighs. “No, Newton. We were Drift compatible. We still are. I should have known, the ghost Drift warned me through nightmares and gut feelings that I chose to discard. Over the years, when you reached out, I refused you, acting on account of my foolish jealousy, when I should have stayed true to our friendship. I meant to say this a long time ago, but our relationship became strained—”

“Hang on,” Newt interrupts him again. Hermann would be annoyed, but this would not be the Newt he loves if there were no interruptions. “You were jealous of my position at Shao? You were offered a job there too, Hermann, and you refused it. We could have been working together all those years. How could you be jealous?”

“It was not your job I was jealous of, Newton,” Hermann says, significantly. “But I suppose that jealousy is not an appropriate term to be used in this context. I misspoke. Jealousy implies already existent possession and commitment.”

Newt blinks. “You mean...? Wait... I don’t understand, are you…?” he stutters, failing to form a proper question.

With a pang in his chest, Hermann straightens his back, and speaks with as much courage as he can possibly muster. “Perhaps I should speak more clearly. I cherish our friendship, and I feel deep regret at my failure to be of support to you when you most needed it. But most of all, I regret that I did not have enough strength to tell you that I loved you, ten years ago.”

The lack of response isn’t unexpected to Hermann. He’s not a patient man, but he tries his best to wait as Newt processes what he has just been told.

Newt’s wide eyes carefully scan Hermann’s face, mouth slightly open. “You loved me?” he asks incredulously, voice weak.

Hermann manages to break into a small, sad smile. “I still do.”

“Oh my God, all right, okay. Hermann? Herm, I need you to listen to me. Like, really listen. Damn it, we’ve both been such idiots, I swear,” Newt blathers, throwing the blanket aside, raising up, and swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. His knees touch Hermann’s and they’re now at the same height level, inches away from each other.

Hermann doesn’t say anything, and Newt takes it as a sign to continue.

“After the Drift, I wanted to talk to you, about what we both felt, but all I could think about was Drifting with Kaiju brains again. It was impossible for me to focus on anything else and I had wanted to reach out, more than anything else, but they didn’t allow me. You wanna know why? You were a threat to them, Herm. You would have distracted me from the purpose they had for me, you would have figured it out and you would have stopped me, and you did, Herm, you really did. They had me keep you at bay, but you still broke through. You’re my rock star.”

Newt’s hands reach out and grab Hermann’s. When Hermann locks eyes with him, both confused and shocked, Newt offers him a warm smile.

“What I’m trying to say is, I love you, too. Always have, and most definitely always will,” Newt finishes.

“Do you mean it?” Hermann finds himself asking, suddenly aware of their proximity. His head lowers defensively, eyes focusing on the tattoos peeking from Newt’s sleeves, watching them shift on his skin as Newt’s tendons move, his hands squeezing at Hermann’s.

“Hey, look at me,” Newt says softly.

Hermann does, and he’s not ready for the affection in Newt’s eyes. Something in his chest constricts.

“We’re well in our forties, you know? Those bastards have taken ten years out of my life. Ten years I would have loved to spend with you. Now, I’m gonna be in here for a while, but when I’m discharged, I, uh, have every intention of not letting you out of my sight. Like, ever again. I’d like to take you out on a date, woo you like you deserve to be wooed, and show you that I’m one hundred and ten percent serious. But those are just words, right? So, uh, may I perhaps, uh, prove that I mean it?”

Newt’s tongue darts out of his mouth for half a second, wetting his lips, and suddenly Hermann feels as though he can’t breathe. The shy, questioning look on his face makes Hermann smile. He nods.

Newt smiles too, biting his lips and tangling their fingers together. He leans in slowly. Hermann doesn’t dare move and he closes his eyes one second before Newt’s lips gently touch his own.

It’s nothing short of electric, at first. Hermann almost shivers at the warmth that fills him from head to toe, all just because of the first brush of lips upon lips. Newt smiles against his lips before deepening the kiss, with a firm and sure press of their mouths.

When Newt pulls back, Hermann involuntarily chases the kiss, with a sigh. Newt has no choice but to reinitiate it, more eagerly this time, compelled by Hermann’s reluctance to end it. He parts his lips slightly, allowing their mouths to fit better together. Hermann responds keenly, dragging his lips over Newt’s with urgency, their noses brushing together.

Newt’s smile is adorably bright when they come up for air. “That wasn’t too bad, was it?” he asks playfully.

“Not at all. Dare I expect a repeat in the near future?” Hermann replies, using the same tone, and mirroring Newt’s smile.

“Several, even,” Newt says ambitiously. “Now, come on,” he adds, pulling back from Hermann and retreating under the blankets in the bed. He pats the empty space he leaves behind. “We have ten years’ worth of cuddles to make up for.”

**Author's Note:**

> All my Newmann fics so far end with them cuddling in a hospital bed, whoops :D  
> I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave kudos if you did and let me know what you thought!


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